


a little bit of tender

by DivineProjectZero



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: 5+1 Things, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 01:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16651723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineProjectZero/pseuds/DivineProjectZero
Summary: Michael’s libido seems to be interested in a lot of things that he should not be getting boners from lately.Namely, say, the sight of Jeremy’s tearstained face, all flushed and fucked out. Like right now.“I’ll be right back.” He evacuates to the bathroom to clean himself off and also have his crisis in peace, becausewhat the fuck. Apparently, Michael finds Jeremy crying during sex really hot. Like, ‘gives me a boner and also possibly an orgasm’ hot.Holy shit, Michael is a pervert. A pervert who gets turned on bymaking his best friend cry.





	a little bit of tender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [left_uncovered](https://archiveofourown.org/users/left_uncovered/gifts).



> Self-betaed. All mistakes are mine. Constructive feedback is always welcome. 
> 
> Special thanks to Jill, who is the whole reason I'm attempting NaNo and back to writing regularly in the first place. I never would've finished this monster of a fic without her constant cheerleading and her unwavering love for me.
> 
> For Mika, whom I promised the Jeremy Heere Sex Tears Fic to over a year ago. I hope you'll forgive me for how long it took, but it's finally here.
> 
> Title comes from "Make Me Feel" by Janelle Monáe.

1.

It starts like this: it’s the night of Jeremy’s birthday and they’ve gotten themselves marvelously drunk to celebrate the fact that they can now both be legally wasted. They stumble back into their dorm room with slurred giggles and unsteady feet, leaning against each other. Michael makes a cursory attempt at groping in the dark for the light switch and forgoes it in favor of throwing Jeremy and himself onto the nearest bed, which is Jeremy’s. 

There aren’t any ulterior motives to the action; Michael just wants a soft surface to crash on and his bed is an entire three extra steps away, which might as well be in another dimension in his jelly-legged state. Sharing a bed with Jeremy isn’t anything new or weird. They’ve done it a hundred times before. So he’s expecting Jeremy to grumble a little and squirm away from where half of Michael’s weight is pressing him down and fall asleep.

What he _isn’t_ expecting is Jeremy’s breath hitching in his chest, jolting like he’s been electrocuted, and then the hardness pressing against Michael’s thigh.

“Dude,” Michael says, still stupid from the heady drunken fog in his head, “do you have a boner?”

“No!” Jeremy squirms a little in a feeble attempt to roll away, but all he succeeds at is rubbing up against Michael enough to confirm that yes, he has a boner. “Okay, fine. Maybe.”

Michael finally deigns to push himself up enough to look Jeremy in the eye and give what he hopes is a coherent eyebrow waggle. “Maybe?” 

“Fuck off.” It’s too dark to tell if Jeremy’s blushing, but there's just enough moonlight for Michael to see the flutter of Jeremy's eyelashes, the glint of teeth biting down on his lower lip, and the sight sends a lick of heat straight to the pit of Michael's belly. 

"You sure about that?" The words fall out of his mouth before he can stop them, a raspy, hot exhale against Jeremy's cheek, and the way Jeremy shudders with a strangled gasp is good enough encouragement for Michael to sneak a hand down and rub over the bulge in Jeremy's jeans. Jeremy moans, hips rolling up into Michael's touch, and a sharp spike of satisfaction thrills up Michael's spine at the sound. "You look like you could use a hand."

Jeremy mumbles something too low for Michael to hear.

"What was that?" Michael gives Jeremy's hard-on a squeeze, shocking a high whine out of Jeremy. "You gotta speak up, Jer."

"Fuck," Jeremy whimpers, hips bucking up into Michael's touch. " _Michael_."

Heat slithers through Michael's blood at the way his name sounds in Jeremy's breathless voice, spurring him to rub over the bulge in Jeremy's jeans in slow circles, heady satisfaction drowning out the small, sober part of his head that says this is a really bad idea. 

"Let me help you out," Michael says, his gaze tracing the moonlit outline of Jeremy's mouth parting in another gasp. He's drunk on the glow of Jeremy's pale skin, the sound of Jeremy's breath hitching in the dark. "Jer, say yes. Let me. Tell me yes."

"I," Jeremy stutters, then chokes when Michael grinds his palm down hard. "Fuck, yes, Michael. _Yes_."

Michael immediately sits back up, relishing the small whine that escapes Jeremy's throat at the loss of contact, straddling Jeremy as he undoes the front of Jeremy's jeans with both hands. His fingers are a little clumsy from the alcohol, but he's still got enough functioning braincells to know that there's a more comfortable position to jerk someone else off. He pulls Jeremy's cock out and spares a few seconds to admire the lean length of it, then shifts his body weight up and to the left, moving off of Jeremy and pushing at his shoulder so that Jeremy's turning to lay on his side, facing away from Michael. Michael lays down and snuggles up against Jeremy’s back, right hand sneaking around Jeremy’s waist and reaching down to form a loose fist around his cock. Jeremy hisses at the touch, curling up so that his back is pressed more snugly against Michael’s chest, his shirt shifting lower to reveal where neck meets back, bare skin illuminated by moonlight. Michael leans in and presses his mouth there as he strokes Jeremy slow and languid, smiling against Jeremy’s skin when he hears Jeremy swear breathlessly. 

"Feel good?" It's a rhetorical question, really. The answer is in the way Jeremy shudders against him with a shaky moan when he rubs his thumb over the slit of Jeremy's dick, smearing precome around the head. 

Michael's feeling pretty good, too. He hasn't been this physically intimate with someone in a while, and it's nice to curl around the warm body that's snug against his chest, to trace the curve of neck before his face and bury his nose into the short curls at Jeremy nape and inhale. The scent of lavender and Jeremy's shampoo is intoxicating, and he can't help but press a wet, open-mouthed kiss against the back of Jeremy's neck.

"Michael," Jeremy whines, and Michael instinctively squeezes Jeremy harder, dragging his fist up from base to head with a tight grip that has Jeremy slapping a hand over his mouth and muffling a filthy groan into his palm. The way Jeremy is squirming his ass against Michael's crotch is addictive, and Michael's almost tempted to grind up against him, to hold Jeremy by the hip and rut up against him until he comes right in his pants. Michael broke up with his last boyfriend months ago, and he knows for a fact that Jeremy hasn’t gotten laid in weeks. They're both hungry for another person's touch, for someone's else's warmth, and Michael is acting on pure instinct at this point.

So he does what makes sense to his horny lizard brain and drags his teeth down the skin of Jeremy's neck, stroking steady and firm, drinking in the sounds of Jeremy's muffled whimpers. Melds himself to Jeremy’s back so there’s absolutely no space between them and he can feel every tremor wracking through Jeremy’s body, his dick fitting against the curve of Jeremy’s ass. The contact makes him stifle a groan into Jeremy’s skin, and there’s a part of him that wants to find out how much better it’d feel if he pulled Jeremy’s jeans and underwear down, stretched Jeremy open and fucked into him, kept those long-fingered hands pinned to the mattress so Jeremy couldn’t hide his pretty face or his sex-drenched noises. Michael wants to find out so badly. He’s openly grinding against Jeremy’s ass as he jerks Jeremy off faster, feeling Jeremy shake against his chest, hips rolling uncontrollably. 

“Michael,” Jeremy whines, and Michael never knew his name could sound like that. A filthy, desperate word, sending a jolt down his spine, shutting down all the higher functioning in his brain. That’s the only excuse he has for what he does next: he bites down hard on the soft flesh where shoulder meets neck.

Jeremy yelps, whole body tensing, precome spurting over Michael’s hand. His cock is still hard in Michael’s grip, which means the pain wasn’t exactly a turn-off and more of a surprise. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Michael presses apologetic kisses to Jeremy’s skin, giving Jeremy a slow stroke to get him back on track, but then Jeremy tenses up. And it’s not the fun kind of sexual tension, but the kind that feels all wrong in Michael’s arms. “Jeremy?”

Jeremy doesn’t make any sound for a long moment, then Michael hears a shaky inhale. 

“Jeremy, you okay?”

Jeremy drags in another harsh breath, his body shuddering at the effort of it. Then, very quietly, he sniffles. 

Michael feels his blood run cold. In his hand, Jeremy starts to go soft.

“I can’t,” Jeremy croaks, and then squirms away, pushing himself up from the bed.

Dull panic creeps into Michael’s head. “Jer, did I do something wrong?”

Jeremy turns to Michael, barely visible in the dimmed moonlight. His voice is hoarse when he says, “No, it’s—forget about this. I’m sorry.”

Then he stands up and shuffles to the en-suite, closing the door behind him.

On Jeremy’s bed, Michael stares at the en-suite’s closed door, his sobriety crashing back upon him and chasing away all the last vestiges of arousal, like he’s been doused with cold water.

Michael's hookup policy is always ask first, mark later. He doesn't leave hickeys without permission, and biting can be a turn-off for some people. Michael loves bite marks, both as giver and recipient, but he's never left a mark on somebody without making sure he was allowed to.

He forgot all of that tonight. He’d lost control. He’s not sure he _had_ any control in the first place, today. He was drunk and not thinking and giving his drunk best friend a handjob. 

And he’d been _enjoying_ it. Michael had, right up until his sanity came back, been getting off on jerking Jeremy off. He’d been fantasizing about _fucking_ Jeremy. 

For fuck’s sake, did he think Jeremy had a pretty face?

Yes, okay, Jeremy was kinda pretty—no, wait, fuck. Yes, he did want to fuck Jeremy—wait, what the _fuck_.

“Oh my god,” Michael says to the ceiling.

2.

“Oh my god,” Michael says to the floor, where Jeremy’s already on his knees. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Jeremy says in a final tone that accepts no objections, and leans forward to take Michael’s cock halfway down his throat.

Michael knocks the back of his head against their dorm room wall with a groan. It's a good thing Jeremy's using both hands to pin Michael's hips steady, because the wet warmth of Jeremy's mouth and the sight of Jeremy's lips stretched around Michael’s cock has his knees buckling under him. Michael’s grateful that he's wearing a condom, because he thinks if he’d felt the heat of Jeremy’s mouth on his dick with nothing between them, he would’ve come immediately. "Jesus _Christ._ "

Jeremy hums, the vibration crackling like electricity up Michael's spine. Michael can't stop the whimper that escapes his lips, can't help the way his hips twist in Jeremy's grip, trying to rock forward into that damning heat. 

He's not going to last long. He's been half-hard since Jeremy proposed _this_ twenty minutes ago and he's been perpetually horny ever since Jeremy's birthday. It’s been two agonizing weeks of awkward glances, nervous laughs, and guilty masturbating to the memory of Jeremy moaning, warm and firm against Michael's chest. He's been holding his breath and trying to unlearn the taste of Jeremy's skin ever since that night, and now Jeremy’s offering everything that Michael’s been having wet dreams about, no strings attached. It’ll be a miracle if Michael lasts for even more than two minutes. 

Also, Jeremy is a _lot_ better than this than Michael expected, which absolutely zero of his braincells were prepared for.

"Where the fuck," Michael hisses through his teeth as Jeremy does something fucking incredible with his tongue to Michael's frenulum, "did you learn to do that?" His hips buck at the shock of heat that licks up his spine when Jeremy does it again. "No, don't answer that." He doesn't need to know what Jeremy's sex life has been like with other people when Jeremy is right here on his knees with his mouth around Michael's dick, his attention entirely on Michael. “Better question: what other tricks do you have hidden up your sleeve?”

Jeremy can't smirk when his lips are stretched around Michael's cock, but he does the next best thing, which is swallow down the whole length of Michael until his nose is buried in the dark hair at the base and look up through his lashes with bright blue eyes.

"Holy _fuck_." Michael feels like he’s been gut-punched, all the breath gone from his lungs, his words barely making it through his teeth. ”Jeremiah Heere, where the fuck did your gag reflex go?"

Jeremy responds by swallowing around Michael's dick with a low hum, his throat squeezing Michael with a pressure that makes Michael swear viciously, one hand latching onto the curls on top of Jeremy's head as he almost doubles over from how good it feels. When he manages to upright himself, he realizes he's still gripping Jeremy by his hair and lets go with a harried apology.

Jeremy pulls off, one hand relocating from Michael's hip to give Michael's cock a slow pump, the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. "You can pull my hair, you know."

A shiver runs through Michael at the rasp in Jeremy's voice. He runs his fingers through Jeremy's hair, gently brushing wayward curls from Jeremy's forehead. "You want that?" 

"Just don't yank too hard," Jeremy says, eyes fluttering closed with a contented sigh.

Jeremy's always liked having his head petted, much like Michael, and their friendship has always allowed for them to casually touch each other, but Michael hadn't ever thought of what it might be like, to touch each other like this in a context that isn't platonic at all.

He curls his fingers into the hair at the back of Jeremy's head, tightens his grip just enough to get a whine out of Jeremy's spit-slick mouth, blue eyes flickering open as a red flush steals down his cheeks and throat.

"You like this." He tilts Jeremy's head back a little so he's looking straight into Jeremy's eyes. "What else do you like?"

The flush on Jeremy's face deepens, but he doesn't look away from Michael's gaze. Instead, he leans forward to press a kiss to the tip of Michael's cock, mouthing wetly around the head, sliding his tongue across the underside with a deliberate slowness that makes Michael’s balls ache. The hand that's still on Michael's hip slides down to tap the side of Michael's ass, and then gives a clear come hither gesture.

Michael’s internal temperature jumps ten degrees at the unmistakable implications of that. “Seriously?”

Jeremy raises an eyebrow at him, his eyes gleaming with that same look he gets whenever they play video games against each other, and Michael takes the challenge, just like he always does.

He snaps his hips forward in a shallow, experimental thrust, testing how well Jeremy takes it, and his cock slides in easy and quick, bumping against the back of Jeremy’s throat, and Jeremy doesn’t even flinch. Just inhales sharply through his nose, eyes still focused on Michael’s, the tension bleeding out of him so fast that his shoulders slump forward, relaxed. When Michael repeats the motion, a little deeper this time, Jeremy fucking _moans_ , like _he’s_ the one getting off on it, and Michael’s restraint shatters completely apart.

He doesn’t hold back when he thrusts in again, burying himself to the hilt, keeping Jeremy’s head right where he wants with the hand in his hair, his other hand braced against the wall behind him as he fucks Jeremy’s mouth in short, steady thrusts. He doesn’t dare look away from Jeremy’s eyes, even as they go glassy and unfocused, trying to gather enough shredded sanity to stop himself at the first sign of Jeremy in pain. 

Maybe a dozen thrusts in, Jeremy chokes, tears beading at the corners of his eyes, and Michael freezes in alarm. He starts pulling Jeremy off his cock by his hair when Jeremy taps Michael’s thigh, his other hand waving at him in a gesture of _don’t_.

“You wanna keep going?” Michael asks. 

As best as he can with a mouthful of Michael’s cock, Jeremy nods.

“Christ.” Michael’s blood burns with a ravenous hunger he didn’t even know he was capable of. It’s one thing to learn that your best friend is apparently gifted at sucking cock and deepthroating; it’s another thing entirely to find out that your best friend also seems to have a penchant for rough sex and getting facefucked. “Okay. I’m not gonna last much longer anyway, but tap my leg twice if you want me to stop.” His voice drops to a low growl without any conscious permission from his brain. “Otherwise, I’m not stopping.”

Jeremy shudders in response with a muffled whimper around Michael’s cock.

“Tap once to tell me you understand what I just said.”

There’s a firm tap to Michael’s thigh and Jeremy looking up at him with tearful eyes. It’s all the invitation Michael needs.

“You’re so good.” He pants the words between thrusts, watching his cock disappear into Jeremy’s mouth. He doesn’t know if Jeremy’s going to welcome the soothing words; Michael never considered himself to be talkative during sex, really. But seeing those eyes bright with unshed tears, that red mouth taking Michael’s cock so well—it makes him want to encourage Jeremy. Shower him with warm praises and kind compliments and tell him just how much Michael is enjoying this. “You’ve got an incredible mouth. You take it so well, and it feels so fucking amazing.”

Jeremy makes a choked noise, a tear sliding down his cheek, but he doesn’t tap Michael’s thigh. Doesn’t ask Michael to stop. 

That’s all it takes to push him over the edge.

“I’m gonna,” Michael says, his words colliding into each other as his control fractures. “Fuck.” His hips buck erratically as he comes, his coherency collapsing as he groans low and shaky, pulling Jeremy in closer so that his dick is buried all the way down Jeremy’s throat.

After the immediate aftershock of orgasm clears away, Michael realizes he still has an iron grip on Jeremy’s hair and winces, carefully pulling Jeremy off his cock with an wet popping sound. “You okay?”

“Better than,” Jeremy rasps, his voice sounding wrecked. It sends a jolt of leftover lust through Michael’s spine. 

It’s only then that Michael realizes Jeremy’s gotten his own cock out through the open front of his pants and that his fingers are splattered with white drops of come. He must’ve jerked himself off while Michael was facefucking him.

At least that’s conclusive proof that Michael doesn’t need to worry about how much Jeremy enjoyed that particular sex act, then. He makes quick work of pulling his condom off and tying it up, then tucking himself back into his underwear. He leans to the side to snag the box of tissues from Jeremy’s desk and offers it to Jeremy, who takes it with a murmur of gratitude, then makes a quick trip to the en-suite to dispose of the condom in their trashcan under the sink. He takes a moment to look at his reflection in the mirror and sees the regular old Michael Mell. Looking a little flushed, but otherwise still him. Nothing’s really changed. 

He’s still Jeremy Heere’s best friend. 

With benefits, now.

He’s still processing that little update to their friendship status and the fact that he just fucked his best friend (with benefits) in the mouth when he returns to see Jeremy still on his knees, facing the section of the wall that Michael just vacated.

“Jeremy?” A frisson of worry flickers through him as he circles round Jeremy so they’re face to face. Jeremy’s wiped himself clean and zipped up his pants again, so it’s not that he hasn’t moved at all. But he has a faraway look in his eyes that Michael doesn’t like. He squats down and places a tentative hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Hey, everything okay?”

Jeremy blinks, alertness returning, his shoulders tensing up again, losing that beautiful, blissed sense of relaxation he had a few minutes ago. “Yeah. Just, kinda.” He fidgets, glancing away. “Afterglow makes me stupid for a bit.”

“Oh.” Michael isn’t quite sure Jeremy was having any kind of _glow_ back there, but he isn’t going to question it. “You want to like, cuddle? On the bed?”

“We don’t have to,” Jeremy says, but Michael’s already tugging him to his feet, wincing in sympathy over Jeremy’s sore knees, dragging him over to the nearest bed—Michael’s, this time—and bullying Jeremy onto it. 

“Blanket?” Michael asks, grabbing it from where it’s been flung over the foot of the bed.

Jeremy rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond quirk to his mouth that makes Michael feel like he’s on familiar ground again. “No, it’s fine. Just get over here.”

It’s such a normal, ordinary thing to say. Such an ordinary, familiar routine to obey those words and climb up onto the bed, scooting in so that they’re leaning against each other. It’s something Michael and Jeremy have done over a hundred times, but it’s not quite the same, because now Michael could topple Jeremy over on the mattress and taste every inch of him, could spread Jeremy open by the knees and take him apart in a way that their friendship never would have allowed until now. Now, Michael knows what Jeremy looks like with a cock down his throat and he wants to know what Jeremy looks like with a cock up his ass. He wants to know everything.

Starting from what that lush mouth, all fucked out and bruised, tastes like.

When Michael leans in, he can see the faint red at the edges of Jeremy’s eyes. He recalls the sensation of falling in zero gravity when he’d seen that first tear slide down Jeremy’s flushed cheek and feels the faintest of shivers ghost across his skin. He pushes that away, something to scrutinize for later, and focuses on closing the distance between him and Jeremy.

Which fails when Jeremy squeaks and leans away, looking bewildered. “Dude, what?”

A sudden flutter of anxiety makes the pit of his stomach go cold. He doesn’t know if he’s broken one of the new rules of their friendship somehow. “Is kissing off-limits?” 

Jeremy sputters. “I mean. It’s not? Off-limits? Kissing is okay. Very okay.” He’s going redder than when Michael was actually fucking his face, which is a feat in itself. “Just, you know. I just had your dick in my mouth?”

“I had a condom on,” Michael points out. “And even if I didn’t, I’m not enough of an asshole to think it’s too gross to kiss a guy who blew me.”

The way Jeremy averts his eyes and goes silent makes something deep in Michael’s chest turn over violently.

“Nobody ever let you—?” He can hardly finish his sentence from how shockingly, _monumentally_ pissed off he is. 

Jeremy’s never officially dated anybody; just hooked up with girls and guys over the years and introducing absolutely none of them to Michael. All this time, Michael’s been thinking that Jeremy’s at least having a satisfactory sex life, judging by the way he’d sometimes come back to their dorm room blissed out and boneless. But apparently the sex had ended at just sex, and none of these assholes have had the goddamn decency to kiss Jeremy after a blowjob. All this time, Jeremy’s been getting plenty of sex and no appreciation. 

For the first time, Michael regrets that he’s never been introduced to any of Jeremy’s hookups, because he’d really like to have some _words_ with them. 

“It’s fine, it’s not a big deal,” Jeremy mumbles, quiet, shrinking into himself in a way that Michael thought he outgrew since they started college. Michael is going to hurt every bastard who turned their head away when Jeremy leaned in for that kiss.

“It’s not fine.” Michael lifts a hand to Jeremy’s cheek, turning his head so he’s facing Michael properly. “Jer, you deserve better than that.”

“This doesn’t—” Jeremy falters, conflicted. He won’t meet Michael’s eyes. “You don’t have to.”

Michael leans in, pressing his forehead to Jeremy’s, willing Jeremy to understand all the things Michael doesn’t know how to put into words. “I _want_ to.” Their noses brush against each other. “I want to kiss you. But only if you want it, too.”

With a shaky exhale, breath hot against Michael’s mouth, Jeremy says in a small, wavering voice, “I want you to.”

It’s all the invitation Michael needs.

He pulls Jeremy in with a gentle hand for a slow, chaste kiss, the two of them breathing together. The cold anxiety in Michael’s gut melts away in the warmth of Jeremy’s soft lips against his, of Jeremy’s breath shuddering against Michael’s skin when Michael’s thumb strokes small circles over Jeremy’s cheekbone, of Jeremy’s hands sliding up Michael’s chest to curl into the fabric of his sweater with a desperate grip. From here, it’s easy to lick into Jeremy’s mouth, to chase the faint remaining taste of latex and learn the taste of Jeremy’s tongue with his own. Easy to swallow Jeremy’s gasp and pull him in close. Easy to promise, in the secrecy of his own mind, that he’ll treat Jeremy better than everybody else who came before him. 

It shouldn’t be this easy, the two of them changing all the rules between them. But Michael can’t think of choosing any other way, not with Jeremy melting into this kiss, holding onto Michael like a lifeline.

3.

It shouldn’t be this easy, the two of them going from platonic best friends to best friends who fuck each other’s brains out on a regular basis. But Michael can’t think of choosing any other way, not with Jeremy shuddering under him, saying Michael’s name like a prayer.

“Michael,” Jeremy pants, squirming as Michael licks around the head of his cock, teasing in a way that always drives Jeremy crazy. “Fuck! Michael, you _asshole_.”

Jeremy’s being aggressive today, which is a rare treat. But then again, Jeremy is full of pent up frustration and probably feeling horny as fuck. He’s sitting up against the pillows stuffed at the head of his own bed, keeping his naked back from growing cold against the wall his bed is pushed up against, and both of his wrists are handcuffed to the bed posts at either side of him. Meanwhile, Michael is on all fours between Jeremy’s legs, giving Jeremy the most drawn-out blowjob of all time while he fingers himself open slow and steady, steadfastly refusing to give Jeremy a good view.

Plus, Michael snapped a cock ring onto the base of Jeremy’s dick over forty minutes ago. It’s a miracle Jeremy’s balls aren’t blue yet.

Michael gives Jeremy’s cock one last lick before he leans up, one hand still between his own legs, three fingers knuckle-deep inside him. “You want to fuck this _asshole_ ,” he says with a deliberate thrust of his fingers on that last word, his voice going breathy with pleasure, “don’t you, babe?”

“Michael, I swear to god,” Jeremy says, sounding petulant and desperate and _hungry_ , “if you don’t let me fuck you right now I’m going to delete all your save files on Apocalypse of the Damned.”

It’s ridiculous how that manages to sound like a credible threat and yet sound absolutely harmless at the same time. Michael can’t help but smile as he pulls his fingers out of himself and starts crawling up to straddle Jeremy’s lap. “You do know that would be as annoying to you as it is to me, right?”

“Whatever.” Jeremy tips his head up in a silent plea. “I wanna fuck you.”

Michael chuckles. “I bet you do.”

Jeremy’s lips are red and swollen from how much he’s been chewing on them for the past half hour, and Michael feels the temptation pull him in like a magnetic force. He already jerked himself off half an hour ago while Jeremy watched with dark, hungry eyes, but the need is simmering in his blood again. He supposes it’s about time to give into the craving that’s crawling up his spine.

He leans down to kiss Jeremy deep and slow, and Jeremy meets him halfway like he’s been starving for it, straining against the handcuffs that hold him back. Michael presses him back against the pillows and wall, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, and coaxes Jeremy’s tongue into his mouth so he can suck on it nice and slow. It helps chase the nasty taste of latex from Michael’s palate, which reminds Michael that he should try getting flavored condoms next time. Or maybe he could suggest barebacking.

He’s not sure if that would be against the rules of this new game they’re playing. If it would make things too messy—both literally and figuratively—between them. It’s been three weeks since they’ve started sleeping together, and Michael’s still learning the boundaries they’ve redefined. He’s learned that Jeremy melts into kisses like he’s hungry for them but will never initiate them. He’s learned that Jeremy thrives when he’s praised in bed but goes quiet and uncomfortable when Michael says sweet things outside of their room. He’s learning that Jeremy loves being pushed to his limits during sex but seems unsure of where some of those limits are, like he’s never found anybody else he trusts enough to help him explore those. 

And while Michael thinks it makes perfect sense that Jeremy would trust him more than any other casual hookup, it also scares him, just a little. Because this means that sometimes Michael doesn’t know where the boundaries are, how far he can push Jeremy without hurting him or irreversibly fucking up their friendship. 

But more than it scares him, it makes him want to do his best to help Jeremy. To make him feel good and take care of him. To protect him. Jeremy’s his best friend, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try his hardest to be the best friend with benefits a guy could ask for.

So for now he decides to shelve the barebacking idea for some other time, and pulls away from Jeremy’s mouth.

“I’m gonna ride you.” Michael takes Jeremy’s cock in one hand to position it at his entrance. “And you’re not going to come until I say you can, okay?”

Jeremy twitches, looking baleful and turned on simultaneously. “Hurry up, will you?”

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?” Michael asks with a smirk, still hovering over Jeremy’s dick.

“Fuck you.”

Michael shrugs. “Close enough.”

He sinks down onto Jeremy’s cock in one steady slide, moaning in tandem with Jeremy as he adjusts to having the lean length of Jeremy inside him. Jeremy’s dick has a good length to it with a nice upwards curve that’s particularly suited for hitting Michael’s prostate, and it takes only a few seconds of squirming on Jeremy’s lap for Michael to feel that nudge against that sweet spot, sending a wave of shuddery pleasure through him.

“God, Michael.” Jeremy’s already looking a little wrecked, all flushed cheeks and glazed eyes, his voice hoarse with need. “I need you so bad.”

Michael shushes him. Leans in to press butterfly kisses to his cheeks and the corner of his mouth. “You have me.” He kisses Jeremy for a long moment, the only sound he can hear the thud of his heartbeat in his ears. Breathes the words against Jeremy’s mouth one more time, like it’s a promise. “You have me.”

Jeremy makes a choked sound that almost sounds like a sob. “Michael.” He lowers his head to Michael’s shoulder and takes a second to rest his forehead there and breathe. Then, he drags his teeth across Michael’s collarbone with a trembling intake of breath. “Please, _move_.”

The slow boil of lust in Michael’s blood flares into scorching heat at the edge of pain, and he rolls his hips on instinct, swearing when the blunt head of Jeremy’s cock presses against his prostate in the process, his back arching at the jolt that ricochets through his nervous system. He clenches hard around Jeremy as he circles his hips again, letting the spike of heat roll over him, and feels satisfaction unspool in his belly when Jeremy throws his head back and groans, his hips jerking under Michael’s weight.

“You feel so good inside me,” Michael says, trying to keep his voice even as he grinds his hips just right, luxuriating in how full he feels with Jeremy seated all the way inside him. He flattens one palm against Jeremy’s ribcage and slides upwards, mapping out the smooth plane of his chest and flicking a pink nipple with one thumb, grinning when he feels Jeremy’s cock twitch inside of him. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

Jeremy whimpers, either from the praise or from Michael clenching around him again. “Wanna touch you.”

“Not yet.” Michael leans into give Jeremy another kiss as he presses his hands to the wall either side of Jeremy’s head for leverage, shifting his weight towards his knees. He nips at Jeremy’s lower lip in a teasing gesture before one last reminder: “Don’t come until I tell you to.”

And then he starts riding Jeremy in earnest, lifting up and then grinding back down, over and over in a punishing rhythm that makes his thighs burn. Every time the blunt head of Jeremy’s cock rubs up just right inside him a flash of heat scores through Michael’s lower belly, making his dick dribble precome over Jeremy’s stomach. He chases the rising tide of pleasure with unrelenting persistence, letting the tension build and stretch through his nerves as he rolls his hips and moans shamelessly, so close to being swallowed under the currents.

“Michael—oh—God, please.” Jeremy’s whining in earnest now, half-formed words and pleas coming punched out of him between gasps. His eyes shine with desperate tears. “Let me come, let me come, please, let me come—”

“Not,” Michael grits out, slamming back down onto Jeremy’s cock, feeling the incoming crescendo sing through his spine, “ _yet_.”

He takes one hand from the wall and wraps it around his dick, stroking himself to give himself that last push he needs to come, and it takes only half a dozen strokes before the tension snaps inside him, the rush of pleasure flooding his senses as he spurts all over Jeremy’s chest and stomach with a low whine. 

Michael takes a moment to chase the aftershocks with a few extra strokes and a lazy roll of his hips, feeling the tension melt away into bliss. He allows himself to bask in it for only a moment, then lifts his hips up so that Jeremy slips halfway out of him.

“Please,” Jeremy begs, curls plastered to his sweaty forehead and desperate tears shining in his eyes. Michael feels his dick give a valiant twitch at the sight. “Michael.”

Michael reaches down with both hands to unclasp the cock ring around the base of Jeremy’s dick and drops it onto the mattress. “You did so good, Jer.” He sinks down again so that Jeremy’s fully inside of him, shuddering a little from oversensitivity. He clenches around Jeremy and watches the way he tilts his head back against the pillows with a keening sound. “You can come now.”

He rocks his body against Jeremy’s, letting Jeremy fuck him slow and deep, measures the imminence of Jeremy’s orgasm by how Jeremy is gradually reduced to wordless, filthy moans and tears sliding down his cheeks.

Michael leans in to kiss those tears away, tasting saltwater and Jeremy’s sweat, then mouths his way down Jeremy’s jawline to the beautiful curve of his throat offered in surrender. 

“Come on, baby.” He bares his teeth against the skin there and says, “Come for me,” before he bites down.

And with a long, stuttered groan, Jeremy does.

Michael kisses him through it, pressing his chest against Jeremy’s despite the mess there, and waits it out until he feels Jeremy start to go soft inside him.

“Hey.” Michael leans away just enough to see Jeremy’s face. He looks pretty blissed out. “You feeling okay?”

“Mrrmph,” Jeremy says, which is post-coital Jeremy speak for _I think you fucked my brains out._ It’s basically the Jeremy Heere sex stamp of approval.

Satisfied, Michael carefully extracts himself from Jeremy’s lap, making sure to get the condom and tie it off while he's at it. Internally wincing at the sticky mess on his chest, he grabs the key from the edge of the bed to undo Jeremy’s handcuffs. They’ve left red marks on Jeremy’s wrists that Michael’s dick should not be interested in, but Michael’s libido seems to be interested in a lot of things that he should not be getting boners from lately. 

Namely, say, the sight of Jeremy’s tearstained face, all flushed and fucked out. Like right now.

“I’ll be right back.” He evacuates to the bathroom to clean himself off and also have his crisis in peace, because _what the fuck_. Apparently, Michael finds Jeremy crying during sex really hot. Like, ‘gives me a boner and also possibly an orgasm’ hot.

Holy shit, Michael is a pervert. A pervert who gets turned on by _making his best friend cry_.

Michael very calmly does not drown himself in the sink.

It’s not that Michael _wants_ to make Jeremy cry; he wants to make Jeremy laugh. He wants Jeremy to feel safe, and happy, and cared for. It doesn’t matter how fucking pretty Jeremy is when tears are dripping down his cheeks and he’s begging for Michael’s cock; Michael isn’t interested in anything aside from making Jeremy feel good.

When he returns to their bed with a wet cloth to wipe Jeremy down, Jeremy tugs him into the bed, curling into Michael’s side with a sigh, and Michael reads the tentative question in Jeremy’s pout. As he leans down to kiss Jeremy, he wonders what it says about him, that the idea of anybody else making Jeremy cry wants to make him bare his teeth and snarl, and yet he finds such primal satisfaction in causing Jeremy’s tears. 

Burying his face in the curve of Jeremy’s neck, Michael resolves to put a lid on it. It’s too complicated, too messy. There’s no point to trying to examine the intricacies of his attraction to Jeremy when none of this can be acknowledged outside of the walls of their dorm room. He doesn’t need to explore a kink that could potentially sink their friendship, benefits and all.

He doesn’t need to make Jeremy cry to have fantastic sex, anyway.

4.

It turns out that making Jeremy cry is an unfortunate but inevitable byproduct of having fantastic sex.

Not that Jeremy cries _every_ time they have sex; he tends to stay dry-eyed through handjobs and blowjobs—unless Michael fucks his mouth hard enough—and even a standard fuck usually merits slightly damp eyes at most. What drives Jeremy to tears is being pushed to his limits. When they take it slow or when Michael fucks Jeremy hard enough or when Jeremy’s so overwhelmed with arousal that all he can do is beg and cry. 

Case in point:

“Please,” Jeremy pants. He’s naked and splayed on his back across Michael’s bed, whimpering at the ceiling while Michael tugs Jeremy’s ass closer to the mattress’s edge to get a better angle. Michael’s still in his teeshirt and jeans, kneeling at the edge of his bed with a pillow under his knees and Jeremy’s legs thrown over his shoulders. He can’t see Jeremy’s face from here, but it’s easy to tell that Jeremy’s on the verge of tears already. He can hear it in Jeremy’s wobbling, breathless voice. “Michael, I don’t think—”

Jeremy’s voice cuts off with a high whine when Michael leans in and gives a slow lick from hole to perineum. 

“Sorry. My mouth’s gonna be occupied, babe.” Michael drops a kiss to the underside of Jeremy’s balls, the mischief bleeding into his words as he uses both hands to spread Jeremy’s cheeks open. “But feel free to keep talking to me if you want.”

As Jeremy sputters an indignant reply, Michael ducks forward to press a dirty open-mouthed kiss to Jeremy’s hole, relishing the sound of Jeremy’s voice breaking into a wavering moan. He flattens his tongue against Jeremy’s entrance and licks across it, tasting a hint of soap and musk. He repeats the action a couple times, until the skin there is wet with spit, and once he’s satisfied, he licks inwards, pushing his tongue inside Jeremy.

From above him, Jeremy flails with a keening sound, one heel kicking Michael in the back. Michael doesn’t pay that any mind and continues to lick Jeremy open, hauling Jeremy’s hips closer when Jeremy instinctively tries to squirm away from the stimulation.

“ _Fuck_.” Jeremy’s voice cracks on the word from how keyed up he is. Barely fifteen minutes ago, Michael dragged Jeremy straight from the shower onto the bed and got him to jerk off as Michael watched. Jeremy’s sensitive right now, barely recovered from orgasm. “Michael, slow down.”

In lieu of answering, Michael shoves his tongue in deeper. Anchors Jeremy’s thighs with both hands to keep him still and eats him out with long, deep licks and liberal application of saliva. He can’t see Jeremy’s face or check how hard he is from this angle, but he can feel every twitch of Jeremy’s hips when he thrusts his tongue into him, can hear every breathless plea wrenched from Jeremy’s throat when he traces the sensitive rim of Jeremy’s hole. It’s enough to keep Michael going even when his jaw starts to ache, heat thrumming through him pleasantly as he tongue-fucks Jeremy with patient dedication.

Once Jeremy starts shaking, his whole body taut with tension, Michael decides to show a little mercy and give him a hand.

So he presses his face in as much as he can, flicking his tongue into Jeremy, marveling at how slick Jeremy’s hole is now, and sneaks his hand upwards to wrap it around Jeremy’s cock, pumping it once, twice, and then Jeremy’s clenching his thighs around Michael’s head, keening as he comes for the second time in an hour. 

He strokes Jeremy through the aftershocks, until Jeremy whimpers and twists away from Michael’s touch, and gives Jeremy’s hole one last lick before he pulls himself away, pushing himself up to his feet. His knees ache and his jaw is sore, but the sight of Jeremy boneless against the bed is worth it.

“Did you enjoy that?” It’s a rhetorical question. The mess of come painted across Jeremy’s stomach, the rise and fall of Jeremy’s panting chest, and the tear-bright blue of Jeremy’s eyes give him his answer. “C’mon.” He wipes his hand haphazardly on the bedsheets and helps Jeremy scooch back, turning so that he’s resting in the middle of the bed. Pats Jeremy fondly on the hip. “There you go.”

Then he lifts Jeremy’s hips, stuffing a pillow under them, and seats himself comfortably between Jeremy’s knees. 

Jeremy blinks, a hint of incredulous alarm creeping into his expression. “Michael?”

“If you want me to stop,” Michael says, running both hands up the inside of Jeremy’s thighs and feeling Jeremy quiver at the contact, “you tap twice.”

He traces Jeremy’s entrance with his fingertips, circling the rim gently as a preemptive warning, listening to the hitch in Jeremy’s breathing, then slides two fingers into Jeremy all the way to the knuckle.

“Oh god,” Jeremy gasps, his soft dick twitching on his stomach. His legs jerk around Michael, instinctively trying to close, but Michael keeps one hand on Jeremy’s knee, spreading him open so Michael can enjoy the view. 

“You’re so wet right now.” Michael moves his fingers slowly, feeling his own dick twitch in his pants at how pliant and wet Jeremy feels. He could probably fuck Jeremy just like this, just roll on a condom and slick himself up and push into that damp heat in one thrust. “Wet and ready, just begging for a cock inside you. Do you want it, Jer? You want me to fill you up right here?”

He twists his fingers at the last question, eliciting a jolt and a squeak from Jeremy, who is rapidly forgetting how to string more than three words together. “Michael, I— _ah_ , fuck!”

“Maybe later,” Michael promises. As much as he’d love to fuck Jeremy into the mattress right now, he’s got a plan today, and being balls-deep in Jeremy tends to make Michael forget any plans. 

For now, he focuses on inching his fingers in deeper, crooking them just right to rub up against where Jeremy is the most sensitive. 

He knows he’s hit the right spot when Jeremy cries out, spasming as his cock hardens halfway and spurts precome over his already messy stomach. 

“You look gorgeous like this, babe.” Michael adds another finger and thrusts steadily into Jeremy, watching Jeremy’s lashes grow damp with tears and his cock harden all the way, dribbling pearly droplets of precome from the tip. “Think you can come again just like this?”

“Maybe.” Tears leak from the corners of Jeremy’s eyes as he meets Michael’s gaze. “I don’t know.”

Michael rubs the pad of this thumb against Jeremy’s perineum, dragging his fingers out to Jeremy’s rim, rubbing him there to make Jeremy whine, high and needy. “I think you can.”

He pauses to grab the lube that’s half-buried under the bedcovers, pulling his fingers out of Jeremy to slick them up generously, and presses a quick kiss to Jeremy’s knee when Jeremy mewls in bereft protest. 

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” Michael says, his soothing tone at odds with rough thrust of his fingers into Jeremy. “You’re doing so well.”

He fingers Jeremy slow then fast, changing up the pace according to the fracturing of Jeremy’s voice and the growing tremors in his limbs. He feels his own cock ache at the filthy squelching noises of his fingers fucking into Jeremy, pushing Jeremy relentlessly to the edge with teasing nudges and hard rubs against his prostate until Jeremy’s trembling from head to toe, clutching at the bedsheets with white-knuckled desperation, as if he might fly apart at any moment.

“Michael,” Jeremy chokes out in a half-sob. “ _Michael_.”

“I’m here, Jer,” Michael says, and twists his fingers and drags them hard across his prostate.

Jeremy slaps a hand over his mouth as his back arches from the bed, muffling a hoarse scream that burns straight through Michael’s blood. The rest of his limbs flail violently, nearly kicking Michael across the head in the process, and Michael has to press one hand down on Jeremy’s hip, pinning him to the bed as he presses his fingers in to that same spot again. And again. Pushing Jeremy through the crescendo of one orgasm straight into the prelude of another, hardly allowing for Jeremy’s erection to flag.

“Too much,” Jeremy gasps, crying in earnest. “It’s too much.”

Michael shushes him, rubbing his thumb across the jut of Jeremy’s hipbone in gentle, repetitive movements as he drives his fingers into Jeremy over and over. “One more, baby. I know you can do one more.”

Jeremy thrashes under his hold with every thrust of Michael’s fingers. “No more,” he begs, his cock leaking continuously under the onslaught of pleasure. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Michael says, because even though Jeremy’s a sobbing wreck and shaking apart like an earthquake, trying to squirm away from the overstimulation, Jeremy still hasn’t tapped out. “Jer, c’mon, give me one more. You can do this, babe.”

Jeremy sobs. “I _can’t_.”

“You can.” Michael leans down so he can press a kiss to Jeremy’s chin. Says into the hollow of Jeremy’s throat, “I’ve got you.” Peppers kisses down to Jeremy’s heaving chest and repeats the words against the skin there like a promise. Like a secret. “I’ve got you.”

When he scrapes his teeth down one of Jeremy’s nipples and presses his fingers deep into Jeremy one more time, Jeremy comes with a broken wail, falling apart while Michael holds him together in his arms, telling Jeremy how well he did, how Michael’s so proud of him, how he’s going to take care of Jeremy, that he’s right here and Jeremy doesn’t need to worry about anything.

It takes a while for Jeremy to come back to himself; he’s completely boneless, eyes unfocused, his breath slowly evening back to a steady rhythm while his higher brain functioning returns to him. Michael curls around Jeremy’s side and tenderly brushes Jeremy’s hair from his face, basking in the blissful quiet of their breathing, the sight of tear tracks on Jeremy’s face, the pliant warmth of Jeremy’s body beside his. He loves this moment, when he’s pushed Jeremy to test his limits, when Jeremy trusts Michael to push him however far Jeremy can stand, until he breaks Jeremy down to mindless pleasure and weightless bliss.

Maybe that’s why it turns Michael on so much to bully Jeremy to tears when they fuck. Because they’re visceral proof of how much Jeremy’s enjoying it, how he’s letting himself go, how much he trusts Michael to take him apart and put him back together afterwards.

“God,” Jeremy croaks, seemingly having regained the ability to use words. He blinks slowly at Michael, still looking a little mindblown. “Wow.”

Michael snickers. “Yeah, that was pretty fucking amazing.”

“Fuck yeah.” Jeremy smiles, shy and devastatingly beautiful with his still-pink cheeks and damp lashes.

Michael reaches up on autopilot to wipe the tears clinging to Jeremy’s eyelashes, watching Jeremy’s eyelids flutter closed and admiring the way Jeremy’s lashes fan over his cheeks. Even after he’s brushed the tears away, he doesn’t remove his hand from Jeremy’s cheek. He strokes over Jeremy’s cheekbone with a thumb and feels his chest tighten when Jeremy opens his eyes.

“I,” Jeremy starts, then his gaze flickers down Michael’s body and back up. “You haven’t gotten off yet.”

His hard-on is a low, thrumming ache in his groin that has been reminding Michael of that exact fact for a while now, but he ignores it for a few more moments. “Well, I was kinda focused on something else.”

“Want me to blow you?” Jeremy asks.

“I’m not in a rush.” Michael’s hand is still on Jeremy’s cheek. He wants to enjoy that quiet bliss just a little longer. “Just enjoy the afterglow.”

Jeremy’s brow furrows. “But I’m the only one who felt good.” 

“Making you feel good was kinda the point.” He doesn’t bother to point out that making Jeremy feel good makes him feel good too, because that would be embarrassing to say out loud. “Besides, I’m too lazy to move.”

“You could just stay there and let me take care of it,” Jeremy says, but Michael doesn’t want Jeremy to sit up or move away, doesn’t want Jeremy to have to worry about anything right now. 

So Michael drags Jeremy in for a kiss, nips at his lower lip and sucks on Jeremy’s tongue until Jeremy momentarily forgets about Michael’s boner. 

Kissing Jeremy is almost as good as having sex with Jeremy. Jeremy melts into their kisses like he’s never had enough of them, making soft, needy noises into Michael’s mouth like just having Michael’s tongue in his mouth is enough to overwhelm him. It makes Michael want to make out with him til they’re drunk off the taste of each other, to forget about sex for a minute and spoil Jeremy with kisses. To take care of him, make him feel like—

Michael pulls away abruptly.

Jeremy makes a dissatisfied noise and chases his mouth, but Michael turns his head away and sits up. “Michael?”

“Bathroom,” Michael blurts, unable to come up with even the flimsiest excuse. All he can think of is that he needs to get away right now before he freaks the fuck out in front of Jeremy. 

He doesn’t dare to spare a look back and just stumbles to the en-suite, shutting the door behind him as fast as he can without turning it into a slam, and locks the door for good measure. 

Splashing cold water onto his face makes the frenzied panic recede enough for Michael to breathe. He grips the porcelain edges of the sink with shaking hands, staring down at the drain as the water drips from his chin. Once he’s sure he’s not going to throw up or pass out or scream, he looks up.

His reflection in the mirror looks back at him, face flushed red and damp hair plastered to his forehead. Still the old regular Michael Mell. Still Jeremy Heere’s best friend. And yet, something’s changed.

He wants to take care of Jeremy. Wants to make him feel _loved_.

And that’s something that best friends do. Michael’s always been trying to remind Jeremy that he’s loved by the people around him, by Michael. It’s nothing new, really. 

Except, he’s pretty sure the way he loves Jeremy now isn’t how you’re supposed to love a best friend, with benefits or not.

Michael is so _fucked_.

5.

Michael is so, _so_ fucked.

“I think we should talk about this first,” Michael says, closing their room door behind him, but Jeremy turns around to grab Michael’s hoodie by the hem and yank it off.

“You can talk _after_ you fuck me,” Jeremy says as he drops the red hoodie on the floor, impatient and haughty, like he’s issuing a challenge, but Michael catches the glimmer of anger underneath the veneer. 

“Jeremy, I don’t really think—”

“Shut up,” Jeremy snaps. There’s a hint of desperation there that cuts Michael to the core, and Michael curses himself for how easily Jeremy can reach the soft underbelly of Michael’s heart with a single utterance. “I’m not listening to a word you say until you’ve come inside me twice.”

Michael hates that his dick immediately goes half-hard just from that. “Jeremy.”

“Don’t.” Jeremy’s already discarded his cardigan and sneakers, strewing them across the floor of their room as he sits down on the edge of his own bed to kick off his jeans and peel off his socks. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

He’s pretty sure Jeremy already knows what Michael’s going to say. It’s been a full week since Michael’s private little panic attack in the bathroom, and their sex has been awkward and halfhearted ever since. Michael’d been working up the nerve to finally put an end to their benefits side of their friendship, but while he’d been dithering, Jeremy managed to drag them to the on-campus clinic three days ago.

And now they just came back from getting their results, and Michael is  _out of time_.

“Just because we’re clean doesn’t mean we have to do this,” Michael tries.

Jeremy glares at him, his thumbs hooked into the waist band of his briefs. His eyes go narrow and dark, like he’s decided to stop holding back, and he stands back up in just his shirt and underwear. “Fine. If you don’t want to do it, I’ll find someone else to stick their dick in me.”

"What the _hell_." Michael feels his whole stomach turn over in fury. “Jeremiah Heere, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

“I’m not the one who can’t get it up anymore!” 

The thing about Jeremy is that he can be especially cutting and nasty when he lashes out, usually just grasping for whatever will hurt most even if he doesn’t mean the words at all. 

And Michael knows this, but it still pisses him off anyway. It’s not even that the words put a dent in his ego or hurt his feelings; it’s that Jeremy is acting like a brat and Michael is so tired of being heartsick when he crawls into Jeremy’s bed or when Jeremy climbs into his lap or when Jeremy says his name. He’s tired of aching for Jeremy in all the ways that he already has Jeremy and all the ways he doesn’t. He’s tired of the fact that outside the confines of their dorm room, he can’t even hold Jeremy’s hand.

So he decides _fuck it_ , if Jeremy wants a cock in him that badly, Michael will give it to him. Michael will give Jeremy what he needs one last time, and then it’ll be over. After that, they’ll be normal best friends again.

“You know what? Fine.” Michael strides towards Jeremy, feeling the anger coil through him and welcoming it. At least if he’s angry, he won’t have time to feel sad and heartbroken. “Fine, let’s do this.” He shoves Jeremy backward onto the bed and climbs on after him. “Remember: you asked for this.”

It’s almost like a fight rather than a fuck. They practically rip their remaining clothes off each other, taking turns wrestling the other down onto the mattress as they kiss like they’re drowning. Jeremy grinds down onto Michael’s crotch while he sucks dark hickeys all over Michael’s throat, and Michael litters bite marks across Jeremy’s pale skin, digging his teeth in like that would make them a little more permanent.

Michael’s hands are greedy on Jeremy, touching every inch of him that he can reach, mapping him out and memorizing every curve, every bump. Even when Jeremy eggs him on through gritted teeth, he takes his time fingering Jeremy open, swallowing down all the sweet, soothing words that clog his throat at the sight of Jeremy on all fours, grinding down onto Michael’s fingers as he looks with glassy eyes over his shoulder. It takes all of his restraint to suppress the urge to meld himself to the curve of Jeremy’s back and kiss his bare nape, to make promises that he cannot keep after today.

Once he’s deemed Jeremy sufficiently prepped and Jeremy’s threatened to kick him off the bed and then ride Michael’s dick himself, he lines himself up to Jeremy’s entrance—and hesitates.

_This is probably a really bad idea_ , he wants to say, looking at the bare head of his cock nudge against Jeremy’s hole. 

Jeremy whines. “ _Michael_.”

“Give me a sec, will you?” Michael asks, slightly exasperated, mostly terrified. 

“Come on,” Jeremy groans. He rocks his hips back, just enough for the tip of Michael’s cock to press into his entrance. His voice goes breathy and low as he drops to his elbows, pushing his ass up and curving his spine in a dirty, coquettish move. “Michael, I need you inside me so bad.”

It’s manipulative as fuck and hot as hell. “Fuck you.”

“Pretty fucking please,” Jeremy says, and Michael decides he’s going to fuck Jeremy until he cries and begs Michael to stop.

He thrusts in hard and without warning, knocking Jeremy face-first into the bedsheets, and Jeremy, the little shit, moans and tries to fuck back onto Michael’s cock, trying to force Michael all the way in. 

“Jesus Christ,” Michael hisses. For a blistering, awfully raw moment, he’s caught between reveling in the slick, tight heat of Jeremy clenching around him with nothing between them and despairing over the fact that this memory will haunt him for the rest of his life, a taunt of everything he wants that he can’t keep.

And then the moment ends when Jeremy shoves his hips back and says, “I thought you said you were gonna _fuck_ me.”

That spark of anger comes back, pouring metaphorical gasoline on the fire burning through his blood, and Michael answers by pulling his hips back and then snapping them forward, burying himself balls-deep in Jeremy and then grinding a tight circle that makes Jeremy moan long and loud. He digs his fingers into Jeremy’s hips with bruising force and fucks Jeremy fast and rough, every drag of his cock rubbing up inside Jeremy’s ass sending small shockwaves of pleasure up his spine.

Jeremy whimpers at every thrust, the sounds fucked out of him as he clings to a pillow and rolls his hips back to meet every snap of Michael’s hips. He can do better, though, so Michael hauls Jeremy’s hips up higher, dragging Jeremy back so that he can fuck him at a better angle, and—

Jeremy shrieks, whole body jolting as if electrified, and Michael grins, pinning Jeremy down and fucking into him at that exact angle, making Jeremy keen. It feels good, right up until Jeremy buries his face into the pillow to muffle his moans, and irritation crawls through Michael’s chest, because Jeremy isn’t allowed to fucking hide from this. Jeremy isn’t allowed to hide anything from Michael right now, because this is going to be their last time, so Michael wants all of it, all of Jeremy in greedy handfuls.

So he pulls out of Jeremy, who makes an indignant, wounded noise, and then he flips Jeremy over onto his back, stealing the pillow from his clutching hands and stuffing it under Jeremy’s hips. “Look at me.” 

Jeremy looks at him with wide, wet eyes, already halfway undone and nowhere near as wrecked as Michael plans to make him. 

“If you want me to stop,” Michael says, and he didn’t expect it to hurt this much to say it, “you know what to do.”

Then he pushes back into Jeremy, slides all the way in until he bottoms out, hissing between his teeth at how good it feels when Jeremy wraps his legs around his waist and pulls him in deeper. Ignores the way his heartbeat skips when tears start brimming in Jeremy’s eyes.

He fucks Jeremy like that, hard and desperate, watching the tears slide down Jeremy’s face, feeling Jeremy clench around him, listening to Jeremy keen on particularly rough thrusts. He tries to carve every bit of it into his memory, even though he knows it will only make the heartache worse once he loses the privilege of having Jeremy in his arms like this.

When Jeremy reaches a hand down to his hard, leaking cock, Michael grabs his wrist and pins it next to Jeremy’s head on the mattress, then takes Jeremy’s other wrist and pins that on the other side of Jeremy’s head for good measure. 

“You wanted my cock inside you; you’ll come from _just_ my cock inside you.”

“Fuck, _Michael_.” Jeremy bites down on his lower lip, which is already red and swollen from how much it’s been chewed on, and Michael aches to sooth the sting of Jeremy’s teeth with his own tongue, to kiss Jeremy slow and sweet and feel Jeremy melt against his mouth one more time. 

The longing and the sight of Jeremy’s tearstained face from up-close catch Michael off-guard, and without thinking it through, he says, “This is what you asked for, baby.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” Jeremy snarls, his hands clenching into fists, glaring up at Michael through his tears even as Michael fucks him deep and steady. It’s a testament to how deeply fucked Michael is that even this makes him ache down to his bones, that this still makes him want to soothe Jeremy into blissful surrender and kiss his tears away. 

Instead, Michael bares his teeth and snaps his hips harder. “ _Fine_.”

They glare at each other for a few more minutes while they fuck, and just when that familiar simmer of incoming orgasm starts to spread through Michael’s blood, Jeremy jerks his arms. “Let go.”

“No,” Michael says. “I said no touching yourself.”

Jeremy makes a small, infuriated sound. “I’m not—” He breaks off with a high whine when Michael grinds deeper into him just out of spite. He twists his head a little to the side, like he can’t bear to say this to Michael’s face. “Wanna touch you.”

The admission feels like a kick to Michael’s gut. “Christ.” It’s pathetic, how easily he folds after that. “Fine. Keep your hands on me.”

When he lets go of Jeremy’s wrists, Jeremy’s hands fly up to Michael’s back, digging his nails into Michael’s skin. It stings like a motherfucker but Michael’s far gone enough right now to have most pain go straight to his dick, so he lets that fuel him, fucking Jeremy until he’s a crying mess, scratching long lines into Michael’s back from shoulder blades to waist as he clenches around Michael with a sob, spurting all over himself as he comes.

It barely takes a handful of thrusts after Jeremy’s orgasm for Michael to come as well, his hips stuttering as he spills inside Jeremy with a breathless groan. Under him, Jeremy’s eyes go wide with shock and what almost looks like awe, drawing a shuddery inhale that makes Michael’s cock twitch as it softens.

When he pulls out, he can’t help but stare at the pearly drops of come that ooze out of Jeremy’s hole, slowly dripping down the cleft of his ass. His dick makes a heroic effort to renounce its refractory period at the sight.

And then Jeremy reaches down to slide two fingers inside of himself, exploring the wet, filthy mess Michael’s left inside him with a breathy sigh while Michael makes a strangled noise, and then lifting his come-slicked fingers to his lips and sucking them into his red, bitten mouth. 

Michael goes fully hard so fast his head spins from it.

“I said,” Jeremy says slowly, pulling his cleaned fingers from his mouth with an obscene pop, “I want you to come in me twice.”

“I’m going to fucking _wreck_ you,” Michael growls, and pulls Jeremy down by his hips straight onto his cock.

He fucks Jeremy hard and brutal and makes him come two more times without touching himself before Michael comes in him again, leaving Jeremy full and dripping with his come.  He hopes it ruins Jeremy for sex with anybody else.

And that’s how it ends.

+1.

And that’s how Michael ends up alone in their dorm room four nights later, feeling his guts twist in his stomach, alone in their dark room with only his desk lamp on.

He’d gone to a party with Jeremy earlier, despite the fact that Michael isn’t a fan of crowds, because they were still trying to restore balance to their friendship and they’d both been putting in the effort to pretend that they were back to normalcy. So he’d tagged along to the party and had watched this tall, broad-shouldered dude with freckles and a charming smile from Michael's Sociology 101 class inch his way into Jeremy’s space until he’d had his hand on the inside of Jeremy’s thigh, and then Michael had left to get a drink. Two steps from the keg, Jeremy texted him to say he was leaving with Tall, Freckled, and Charming, and Michael had just came home, the inside of his mouth too sour to enjoy cheap vodka or beer.

So now Michael was back in their room, pacing the floor, trying not to think about Tall, Freckled, and Charming kissing Jeremy, or fingering Jeremy, or fucking Jeremy. Jeremy’s sex life wasn’t any of Michael’s business anymore.

Except goddammit, it wasn’t even the sex that drove Michael crazy. It was that none of the people Jeremy hooked up with treated him with care. It was that Jeremy, for all skills and experience in sex, seemed to be starved for being shown affection in bed. And that made Michael want to drag Jeremy back to their room, away from foreign hands and mouths, and take care of him, to give him everything he deserved.

But Jeremy hadn’t wanted that, even when Michael had been fucking him sugar sweet and honey slow, all worshipful touches and loving words. He’d gone tightlipped and quiet when Michael called him an endearment outside of sex. He’d adamantly pulled away from Michael’s affectionate touches when they were outside of their room. 

He’d never kissed Michael first, not even once.

And yet, Michael can’t help but think, Jeremy had been so devastatingly, heartbreakingly furious when it all came to an end. Glaring up at Michael through tear-damp lashes, his lower lip quivering as he lashed out at Michael’s affection, clinging so desperately to anger, as if that was all that was holding him together. As if this meant the end of something more than just sex. As if Michael tapping out of the game had hurt him.

Except that made no sense, because Jeremy was the one who never—

The door slams open and Michael turns mid-pace to see Jeremy standing in the doorway, looking deeply wronged.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Danny from next door says, pausing in the hallway behind Jeremy. “Hey, can you two keep it down so I can sleep?”

Jeremy steps in and closes the door in Danny’s face.

“All our hallmates hate us,” Michael says, unable to find a way to say _why the hell are you here_ without sounding like a dick about it. “Please don’t give them more motive for murder.” And then, because he can’t fucking help himself, “Why the hell are you here?”

“It’s my dorm room too,” Jeremy snaps. His voice sounds choked, verging on tears, and _oh shit_.

“Jeremy?” Michael hadn’t noticed in the dim light, but when he steps towards Jeremy he can make out the wet shine in Jeremy’s eyes, the tears starting to drip down his cheeks. “Oh god, what’s wrong?” He thinks of Tall and Freckled and feels something deep in his chest snarl. “Did he fucking do something?”

“It’s not him.” Jeremy wipes at his eyes petulantly with one sleeve, but he doesn’t stop crying. “It’s you. It’s all your fault.”

“What did I do?” Michael asks, indignant. The feeling doesn’t last, soon overwritten by concern. 

He wants to touch Jeremy; pull him into a hug, squeeze his shoulders, wipe his tears for him. Something, anything. He hates seeing Jeremy cry like this. It’s nothing like during sex, when Jeremy’s overwhelmed with pleasure. Here, the tears are just products of Jeremy’s misery, sad and empty and full of hurt. 

“I couldn’t let him touch me.” He sounds so miserable. “I was in his room and I just wanted him to make me _stop feeling like this_ , but I couldn’t do it and I had to leave, and it’s all your stupid fault because I didn’t fucking care until now. I didn’t care if they liked me or if I liked them and none of it mattered, and you just had to fucking ruin it.”

Michael’s brain can barely process any of this. “That still doesn’t explain what I did wrong.”

“You ruined me for casual sex,” Jeremy says, sounding half-furious and half-defeated. “Which means I’m never fucking anybody again. I’m going to become a _monk_.”

“I’m so confused,” Michael admits. He decides not to touch the part where he apparently managed to ruin Jeremy for sex with others after all. “Just because you can’t have casual sex doesn’t mean you have to be celibate.” He tries to quash the sliver of hope in his chest. “You could go into a serious, committed relationship, you know.”

Jeremy actually _laughs_ at that, sharp and derisive, hiccuping through his tears as he wipes his face. “Yeah, I don’t think so. That’d require like, whoever I have feelings for to have feelings _back_.”

That stings. More than how Jeremy seems so dismissive of the idea of being in a committed relationship, more than the possibility that Jeremy might have feelings for somebody already—the way Jeremy seems so utterly sure that he won’t be loved back makes Michael's chest hurt.

And it occurs to Michael that for all that he’s been so sure that Jeremy didn’t want anything beyond sex and cuddling, he hadn’t ever asked.

“What if somebody already had feelings for you?”

Jeremy jerks in surprise, his mostly dried eyes squinting at Michael in confusion. “Like, would I date them?”

“Would you at least give them a shot,” Michael clarifies softly.

“I.” Jeremy hesitates. “I don’t know. If it was…” An expression that Michael’s seen a lot in the mirror recently flickers over his face before he shakes his head. “Never mind.” He rubs his face with both hands, looking tired. “You know what, forget it. I’m sorry I was dumb. This isn’t your fault. I’ll probably be over it by next week—”

“What if somebody,” Michael interrupts, because he is abruptly, dreadfully sure that if he lets this go tonight they’ll never discuss it again, and Jeremy will be back to his hookup habits while Michael will have to seethe until his heart is dust and cry in the goddamn bathtub, “could give you all the sex you need and kiss you whenever you want?”

Jeremy’s hands slide down to cover only the lower half of his face as he looks at Michael in bewilderment. “What?”

“What if somebody just wanted to take care of you and make you feel good?” Michael crosses his arms and tucks his hands into his sides to hide how hard they’re shaking. “What if somebody wanted to call you stupid pet names and hold your hand out in public? What if they could wait for you, if you just gave them a shot?”

“Michael.” Jeremy lowers his hands entirely. He looks like he thinks he might know where this is going but he refuses to believe it. “Why are you saying this?”

“What if somebody,” Michael says, his heart in his throat, in his hands, already in Jeremy’s hands since the first time Michael kissed him, “could love you more than anything in the world, if you gave him a chance?”

Jeremy stares at him with a wide, broken-open look in his eyes. “Are you,” he starts, then stops. Starts over in a breaking voice. “Would you?”

Michael shrugs, helpless. “I already do.”

Jeremy makes a choked sound, taking half a step forward, and Michael uncrosses his arms to catch both of Jeremy’s hands. “But you acted all weird and stopped having sex with me,” Jeremy says, sounding faintly perplexed. His voice goes smaller. “I thought you got tired of me.”

“I thought you were only in it for the sex while I was in way too deep.” Michael rubs his thumb’s over the back of Jeremy’s hands apologetically. “I just thought you didn’t want anything more from me than a good fuck, you know?”

“Are you kidding me,” Jeremy blurts. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Michael’s heart does something funny in his chest that makes him briefly wonder if cardiac arrest is possible at his age. “Wait, _what_?”

“I mean, I just slept around because I thought you’d never like me back anyway.” Jeremy ducks his head, flushing a deep red that Michael can still discern in the lamplight. “It’s why I didn’t care about the whole emotional sex thing. I couldn’t have what I really wanted, so I figured what the hell, I’ll just take what I can get. But then you, uh, tried to jerk me off and I freaked out, because I wanted it so badly, but I figured you were being a good friend. And then I thought maybe I could at least have that. Just sex. Even if you never really loved me back.”

That is a _lot_ to digest. Michael’s brain hurts. So does his heart, just a little. “Jer.”

Jeremy averts his eyes, clearly avoiding the unspoken question Michael is asking. “And I knew you’d still be my best friend and treat me okay, so it wasn’t like I thought you’d be a jerk or anything. But you kept treating me like I meant something to you, and it just. I could almost believe that you really did want me back like that.”

“That’s why you were upset when I decided to end it.” Michael draws Jeremy in close and presses a kiss to his hairline with a sigh. “Jeremy.” It feels so good to hold everything he could have hoped for in his arms. He spends a moment to breathe in the scent of lavender and fresh cotton, and asks for the answer he knows is going to hurt like hell. “How long?”

For a long moment, he isn’t sure Jeremy is going to answer at all, but then Jeremy says, “Since tenth grade.”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Jer.” Michael internally winces as he thinks back to his two exes and a handful of flings he’d introduced to Jeremy over the years. “I’d be mad that you were stuck so long on an idiot like me, but I’m too fucking glad you wanted me long enough for me to want you back.”

“Yeah.” When Jeremy pulls back to look at Michael, he’s crying again. But this time, he’s smiling. “I’m glad I waited, too.”

Michael bumps his forehead against Jeremy’s. “I think you should kiss me.”

Jeremy leans in, lips brushing against Michael’s as he whispers, "Can I?"

“Please,” Michael breathes, and Jeremy presses their mouths together, curling his arms around Michael’s neck as Michael wraps his arms around Jeremy’s waist so that they’re leaning into each other, not even an inch of space between them. Jeremy’s lips are warm and soft under Michael’s, giving way easily to Michael’s tongue asking for entry, and Michael feels the soft sound Jeremy makes against his chest down to his toes.

One kiss melts into another, and then wet, open-mouthed kisses melt into Jeremy rubbing his hips up against Michael’s with a muffled groan. Unwilling to stop kissing long enough for them sensibly crawl onto a bed, they take a good five minutes stumbling around, trying to make out and get on Michael’s bed at the same time. 

They don’t even bother taking off most of their clothes, in the end. Michael is still in his sweater and jeans, just his cock pulled out through the open front, and Jeremy only kicks off his sneakers and jeans so he can get his underwear off.

“You don’t have to,” Michael says as a reminder, pulling his fingers out of Jeremy.

“I want to,” Jeremy replies, and this exchange sounds achingly familiar. “But only if you want it, too.”

Michael tilts Jeremy’s head down for a kiss, and that’s invitation enough for Jeremy to sink down onto Michael’s cock slow and steady, all the way until he’s settled snugly in Michael’s lap, their chests pressed together.

They rock together like that for a long time, sharing long, lazy kisses and breathing into each other’s mouths. It’s the slowest—and quietest—sex they’ve ever had, and the tide of pleasure rises so slowly that the anticipation of release is nearly forgotten in its constant hum. When Michael finally feels the final tidal wave begin to rush in, it almost takes him by surprise. 

“I’m close,” Michael says against Jeremy’s mouth, and rubs his nose against Jeremy’s, just because he can.

“Me too.” Jeremy rocks his hips down with a breathless whimper. He reaches down behind his back to trace where Michael’s cock disappears inside him, and Michael’s hands clench around Jeremy’s hips. “Feels too good to be true.”

“It’s all true, Jer.” Michael kisses Jeremy on the tip of his nose, his cupid’s bow, his chin. “So please don’t stop wanting me back.”

Jeremy presses a kiss to Michael’s hair. “I couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried.” Jeremy pulls back just enough to look Michael in the eye. “It’s always been you.”

Michael is going to spoil this boy for as long as he lives. “Jesus, we’re getting sappy.”

“You’re crying,” Jeremy points out, rubbing away a stray tear from Michael’s cheek with his thumb.

Michael laughs, wet and happy. “So are you.”

They rock together, like ships in the tide, tasting of saltwater, moving against each other until the waves crest and they’re swallowed whole, shipwrecked and unmoored, holding onto each other in the low light.

As they lay on the bed, curled up against each other, Jeremy murmurs, “Hey, can I kiss you?”

“Baby, you can kiss me whenever you like.” Michael lifts their joined hand to kiss the back of Jeremy’s hand with a smile. “But only if you let me hold your hand in public.”

Jeremy smiles back at him, as bright as all the stars in the sky. Leans in to brush his mouth against Michael’s, his words warm and fond against Michael’s skin. “You can always hold my hand.”

It starts like this: it’s a Saturday night and the two of them are drunk off kisses and laughter, hands joined and legs intertwined, so utterly in love that they could cry.

**Author's Note:**

> writing tumblr: [divineprojectzero](http://divineprojectzero.tumblr.com)  
> main tumblr: [listentotheshityousay](http://listentotheshityousay.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: [@listento_yousay](http://twitter.com/listento_yousay)


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